Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Struggle for the Sacred Seat, Hongjun's Discourse

These two ragged figures were none other than the great deities of the West, Quasi-Ti and Jie-Yin. Having lacked any suitable magical treasures for protection, they had endured much hardship in the chaos before finally arriving here.

Upon entering, they saw that all six meditation cushions below the high platform were already occupied. A vague sense of the cushions’ importance stirred in their hearts; now that all were taken, their chance for this opportunity seemed lost.

Quasi-Ti’s eyes rolled, and he began to cry out loudly, “Brother! We have struggled through endless trials to reach this place, only to find not even a cushion to rest upon. How unjust is Heaven to us!”

At first, Quasi-Ti merely hoped to wrangle a cushion, but recalling how he and his brother had toiled for years in the Western lands, meticulously tending the earth’s veins to bring vitality to their birthplace, even at the cost of their cultivation, his heart filled with true sorrow. He wailed in earnest.

In the void, Chenxing and the others watched in silence, alongside Hongjun. Suddenly, Chenxing sent a message to Hongjun: “Friend! Though these two will one day take a share of the Daoist fortune, their compassion for all beings is genuine. You should not be too harsh with them.”

Hongjun replied with a bitter smile, “How could I not know? When I warred against Rahu, I destroyed the Western earth veins, owing a great karmic debt to the West. These two have long worked to restore it, and so the karma falls upon them.”

He paused, then spoke gravely: “Among the Six Sages, I have reserved two positions for them. Thus, the debt is settled. Yet, as they may undermine the foundation of my Daoist sect, I will not be harsh, but neither can I show favoritism—else, what of my people in the East?”

Chenxing nodded in silent understanding, sighing inwardly: So be it. In my eyes, all beings are equal, but I must not alter too much of history’s course. Let things unfold naturally.

Meanwhile, in the hall, Quasi-Ti continued to cry, “Now, my brother and I have reached here with such effort, yet not a place to rest! What face have we left to live? Better to die!”

He made as if to dash his head against a pillar, but Jie-Yin held him fast, calling, “Brother, you must not!”

The kindly Hongyun quickly stood, saying, “Friend, you may rest on my cushion. I give it to you; do not do such harm to yourself!” He moved aside, offering his seat.

Zhenyuanzi, seeing Hongyun rise, knew trouble was afoot and reached to pull him back, but was a step too late. Quasi-Ti, seeing someone yield a cushion, accepted without hesitation, thanked him, and pressed his brother Jie-Yin down to sit.

Zhenyuanzi wished to stand and offer his cushion to Hongyun, since Hongyun had secured it for him. But suddenly, a voice whispered in his ear: “If you wish to save Hongyun’s life, stay seated and do not move.”

The voice was familiar; Zhenyuanzi was startled, recognizing it as Chenxing’s. Though unsure of its meaning, he dared not move, only casting an apologetic glance at Hongyun, who waved it off, unconcerned, and sat cross-legged behind him.

Quasi-Ti, seeing his brother settled, eyed the others on the cushions, calculating anew. The Three Pure Ones were clearly together, their cultivation unfathomable—he would not provoke them. Zhenyuanzi was with Hongyun; he would not snatch that seat either.

That left only Kunpeng. Seeing Kunpeng’s cultivation was merely at the Golden Immortal level, Quasi-Ti was unafraid. He fixed his gaze and shouted, “You, beast clad in fur and armor, how dare you sit on the Ancestor’s cushion? Move aside for me!”

Kunpeng was enraged and was about to argue when Yuanshi Tianzun, nearby, opened his eyes and spoke coldly, “You speak rightly. Those born of eggs have no place among us. Stand down!”

Seeing both target Kunpeng, Dijun and Taiyi—who had been secretly vexed that Kunpeng had taken a cushion—were delighted to join in and urged Kunpeng to yield his seat. Seizing the moment of Kunpeng’s anger, Quasi-Ti swept his sleeve, knocking him to the ground, and seated himself.

As Kunpeng rose, ready to fight Quasi-Ti, suddenly a resonant toll of the bell echoed through the hall.

Everyone was startled, quickly sitting upright to await the Ancestor’s arrival. Kunpeng, unable to pursue the quarrel, cast a venomous glance at Quasi-Ti, inwardly blaming Hongyun for yielding his seat.

Suddenly, light blossomed atop the platform, and a figure appeared upon the cloud bed—it was Hongjun. Hongjun glanced over those seated on the cushions, and spoke calmly, “From now on, let it be so.” With that, the future positions of the Six Sages of the Great Desolation were set, though none present realized it.

Just as all expected Hongjun to begin expounding the Dao, he swept his hand, and four cloud beds appeared to one side. Smiling, he said, “Friends, please sit to the side and listen as I speak, would you?”

In an instant, Chenxing and three others appeared upon the cloud beds, nodding respectfully. Chenxing said, “Please proceed, friend. We await your discourse.” They sat down in readiness.

With matters settled, Hongjun spoke, “I will lecture on the Dao for three thousand years. Nine is the ultimate number; I will lecture three times, totaling nine thousand years. Listen well.”

Everyone gathered their focus, calming their minds, awaiting the Ancestor’s exposition.

“I once beheld in chaos something indescribable—called the Dao! The Dao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Dao. The name that can be named is not its true name.

Nameless, it is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; named, it is the mother of all things.

Thus, the Dao is ever without—so I observe its mysteries; ever with—so I observe its manifestations.

These two arise together, yet differ in name; both are called the profound. The profound and more profound—the gateway to all wonders…”

The sound of the Great Dao resounded throughout the Palace of Purple Clouds; instantly, flowers rained from the heavens, golden lotuses bloomed from the earth, and wondrous visions spread through the chaos, as if the Dao itself had descended—indescribable!

In the blink of an eye, the Ancestor’s lecture neared three thousand years. All listened, entranced, countless mighty beings falling into sudden enlightenment. Even Fuxi and Zhufeng were absorbed, especially Zhufeng, whose lower cultivation allowed him to gain the most—over three thousand years, he broke through several realms, reaching the initial stage of Golden Immortal, finally escaping the river of fate and gaining the beginnings of a perspective over all beings.

Even Nuwa, already possessing the Fruit of the Dao, benefited greatly by comparing her learning with Hongjun’s teachings.

Only Chenxing, bored, fell fast asleep, unaware of the passage of time.

One day, as Chenxing slept deeply, Nuwa shook him awake. Groggy, he saw Hongjun’s helpless face and immediately became alert, chuckling, “Sorry, I was too absorbed—please forgive me!”

At his nonsense, Hongjun could only smile bitterly, while the Fat One beside them looked at Chenxing with utter disdain, his expression saying plainly: I don’t believe a word!

Seeing Chenxing awake, Hongjun turned to face the crowd and said calmly, “This three-thousand-year lecture has ended; if you have questions, ask now.”

Just as the crowd was about to speak, a pleasant voice rang out first: “May I ask, Sage, our Wu tribe cannot cultivate the primordial spirit—can we become sages?” It was Houtu who spoke.

Hongjun pondered, then replied, “Under Heaven’s way, all things have a thread of hope. This lies not in Heaven’s way, but in yourselves.”

Seeing Hongjun’s evasive answer, Houtu was left bewildered; the Fat One could not resist interjecting, “What Hongjun means is your Wu tribe has killed too much, harming Heaven’s harmony. Plus, you absorbed too much baleful energy at birth, so it’s impossible to become sages.”

After the Fat One’s chaotic explanation, both Chenxing and Hongjun were speechless. If not for his formidable backing, the Fat One would have long been struck down by Heaven’s thunder.

Houtu noticed that Hongjun did not refute the Fat One, his expression sour, and pressed further, “Then, where is this thread of hope the Ancestor mentions?” Though addressed to Hongjun, her gaze drifted to the Fat One.

Seeing he had caught her attention, the Fat One puffed up proudly, “Of course, it’s in you! You didn’t absorb much baleful energy, so you have a chance to become a sage. Besides, your father—”

As the Fat One grew boastful, nearly revealing Pangu’s secret, Chenxing hurriedly interrupted, “Enough with that nonsense! Be careful, or Mother will beat you when we return!” He glared at the Fat One.

The Fat One, startled, quickly shut his mouth, knowing that if Pangu’s secret were exposed, chaos would erupt in the Great Desolation.

Though he refrained from speaking further, he still muttered stubbornly, “Mother won’t beat me! If anyone gets beaten, it’ll be you.” Chenxing was left speechless, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.